The Miracle in the Madness
by timeaftertime09
Summary: Loosely based on spoilers for S7xE7. Brennan goes into labor in an unexpected place. Both she & Booth work together to bring their child into the world & attempt to overcome unresolved issues along the way.  Rating based on subject matter & just in case


After viewing what the inn's owner deemed to be a 'pleasant little facility', Booth wondered why he hadn't thought to just offer the man his precious five thousand dollars to kick someone out. _This_ was where their child was going to be born?

"Bet that hospital's not lookin' so bad now, huh, Bones?" he couldn't help but smirk.

Brennan took in the makeshift shed complete with a horse that gave a neigh when seeing the couple enter its home and started to come back with a retort when another sharp pain began to climax.

"Come on, Bones. Let's get you back to the car – screw the leather seats - at least it's cleaner than this place," Booth attempted to guide her out of the building.

"I need to lie down, Booth – _as in now!_" she protested.

"It won't take that long, Bones – let's go!" he insisted.

"_NOW!_" Brennan glared at him determinedly.

"Okay," he held up his hands, noticing bales of hay she could lean against. He took off her trench coat to use as a blanket and helped her down. "I'm gonna run to the hotel and grab some sheets and towels."

He started to stand when Brennan pulled him back down.

"No! Booth, you can't leave. _Please_, just don't leave me – I need you," she pleaded.

"I'll be back before you have your next contraction," he assured her.

"Booth, promise me you won't leave me here," Brennan begged.

Booth could see the desperation in her blue eyes. At that moment, he realized she wasn't just talking about their current predicament. He regretted never having an official discussion with her over their past insecurities. _Damn, Sweets_ – now _he_ was thinking like a shrink . . .

"I know my increased hormonal levels combined with the level of physical discomfort I'm experiencing has rendered me irrational," she apologized. "I realize my fears are unnecessary, but our daughter is about to be born and I don't want to be left alone."

"No – hey, it's okay, Bones. It's okay. It'll be okay. I'm not leaving you, baby. I'll never leave you – _ever_," Booth soothed her as another contraction approached. "You, me, Parker, and this baby we're about to have – you're it for me. There's nothing more in this world that I could ever ask for."

Brennan managed a smile through her tears.

"We're having a baby, Booth," she lovingly looked into his eyes, then suddenly gripped his hand so tight he thought it'd break. "Ahhhh! You have to check my cervix – I'm sure it's dilated the necessary ten _centimeters_ at this _point!_"

"You mean, look down _there_?" he panicked, shaking his hand from the pain of her grip.

"You've seen me naked on multiple occasions, Booth – my vaginal region is not a foreign area to you by any means," Brennan argued.

"Yeah, but I'm not a doctor, Bones. I don't know how things work when a living being pops out of it! The ambulance should be here soon, okay?" he reasoned.

"The paramedics have yet to arrive and I feel the need to push!" she groaned and struggled to remove her underwear. "You are perfectly capable of delivering our child. As an FBI agent, you were required to pass a course in basic emergency situations such as this."

"Yeah, but it's not like I've ever had to do it before. What if I screw up or something? This is _our kid_ we're talkin' about here," he worried.

"Damn it, Booth! All that is required is to simply hold out your hands and guide the baby out of the birth canal. I have read books on how the procedure is done, however I am incapable of doing the job myself. If you feel incompetent in completing that task, now is the time to say so. But whether you choose to assist in the birth of our child or not is irrelevant at this point - she is going to be born with or without your help! Either get down there to catch our daughter or get out!" she angrily spoke as larger contractions began.

Booth didn't stall a second longer. He tore off his jacket and looked between Brennan's spread legs.

"I can see the top of her head, Bones! She's got hair and everything!" he grinned, proudly. "I think you should probably push now."

Brennan sat up a little more and pushed as hard as she could, her foot kicking Booth in the face.

"Jesus, Bones! If ya knock me out, I can't do anything!" he complained, half-jokingly.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I don't have anyone to hold my legs back," she apologized. "Perhaps I should squat instead?"

"Squat? _Squatting?_ No - we talked about this before – there's not gonna _be_ any squatting! Squatting's out!" he insisted.

"But Booth, not only is squatting an anthropological method used by women in fields, but it is also recommended by some – _ahh_ – modern-day physicians. It allows gravity to assist in the baby's descent from the womb," Brennan argued, grunting.

"No way, Bones! I don't want our baby to be dropped on her head just because of some ancient ritual," he stood firm. "Here, just try and hold onto your legs yourself," he suggested.

"She won't as long as you . . . make certain . . . to catch her!" she countered in between breaths.

"No!" Booth commanded, then softened. "Look, I love you, but this is not happening, okay? Now come on – you can do this."

Brennan surrendered, unable to argue any longer due to the excruciating contractions. She grabbed ahold of her knees and pushed again.

"You're doin' great, Bones – her head's out!" he exclaimed.

"The next step . . . is to clear the infant's airway – clean the amniotic fluid . . . and blood away from her mouth and nasal passages," she instructed, out of breath.

Booth used his jacket and gently wiped her mouth and nose, then noticed something wasn't right.

Brennan knew that look.

"Booth, what's wrong? Something's wrong – I can tell from the expression on your face?" she asked.

"She uh, she has something wrapped around her neck," he told her.

"Oh god - she'll be strangled . . . _Booth – do something!_ The umbilical cord is caught around her neck, disabling the full function of her airway. _Please!_" she said, desperately.

"You mean she's having trouble breathing? Shit! Oh god! What do I do?" Booth panicked.

"Didn't you have any training in this?" she asked.

"No – I'm not a freakin' doctor, Bones!" he snapped.

"You have to help her!" Brennan pleaded.

"Don't you think I know that?" he retorted and immediately regretted it, seeing her face. "Look, let's not argue – we don't have much time."

Brennan nodded in agreement.

"Is the nuchal cord tight?" she calmed down a little and tried to assess the problem.

"Is the _what_ tight? What the hell are ya talkin' about, Bones. In English?" he requested. There was no time for him to go get a dictionary – although he probably should have a miniature one in his pocket after all these years . . .

"The cord around her neck, Booth," Brennan clarified.

"It seems to be pretty loose. I'm gonna try to get it over her head," he said, nervously taking rope-like cord and attempting to maneuver it around the infant's neck.

"Be careful of her cervical vertebrae and skull . . . her neck and head . . . They're very fragile at this stage," Brennan warned.

Booth nodded and made sure to support their daughter's head and neck with one hand as the other moved the cord over it.

"I got it off, Bones! I got it off!" he grinned.

Brennan breathed a sigh of relief then panicked.

"Booth? Will she be okay? Is she okay?" Brennan wondered and inhaled another breath. "There's a chance she developed hypoxia if she lost any oxygen to her brain."

Booth paused and tried to distract her. He couldn't promise something like that when he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

"A few more pushes, babe. You can do it!" Booth encouraged her.

"I can't! Booth, I can't do this. I can't – not when our daughter might be . . ." she trailed off.

"Hey! Bones, look at me. She's gonna be fine. I promise – just a few more pushes and we'll have our family. Come on, baby, you can do this!" he assured her. "You _have_ to do this!"

Brennan composed herself and pushed.

"She's got one – no two shoulders!" Booth exclaimed.

"Of course she has shoulders, Booth – I could feel them jabbing my pubis, ischium, and ilium," she scoffed in pain.

"Just hang in there a little bit longer, okay? One more push, Bones," Booth coached.

Brennan gathered all the strength she had left and pushed one last time.

"She's out, Bones – she's here!" he smiled. "And she's all goopy . . ."

"Why isn't she crying? Booth? Why can't I hear her crying?" Brennan demanded, worried.

"I-I don't know!" Booth panicked.

"Did you try gently slapping the soles of her feet?" she drilled.

"Whoa – hold on a second! You really want me to smack our baby?" he asked, skeptically.

"Yes! This is the only instance in which it is medically recommended. Do it!" she commanded in desperation.

"Okay . . ." Booth conceded and lightly slapped his daughter's feet.

A loud cry immerged from the infant's mouth.

"She's okay, Bones - she's really okay! She's beautiful!" he marveled, wrapping her in his jacket and handing her to Brennan.

"Oh my god, Booth. She's perfect," she grinned, admiring her for the first time.

"You did great, Bones," Booth said and lovingly kissed her temple.

"So did you. Our child wouldn't be here without you," Brennan reminded him.

"It was a team effort – like always," he humbly brushed it off.

"Booth, there is one more step in the process of giving birth," she remembered, while beginning to nurse their child.

"What's that?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off of his newborn daughter.

"The placenta. In a few minutes, it should naturally descend from the uterus. Just hold out your hands. It shouldn't be difficult to extract," she replied and waited for the afterbirth to come out.

Booth reluctantly moved back down to her legs and waited.

"Okay, it's out. What do I do with it?" he asked.

"Some cultures deem it to be sacred and bury it for good luck," she replied.

"_We're_ not gonna do that, are we?" he cringed.

"I do not believe in superstitions, Booth. I was just recalling a cultural fact," she assured him.

"Good," he sighed in relief and put the placenta aside before eagerly moving back up to be with his child and Brennan.

"We made her, Booth. She's wonderful," Brennan beamed with pride and studying her features. "She really does have your mandibular protuberance and my mother's nasal appendix."

"She has your eyes," Booth pointed out then kissed Brennan soundly on the lips. "We have a daughter, Bones."

Tears began to trickle down Brennan's face.

"Hey, what is it?" Booth wondered, stroking back the damp hair from her forehead.

"Thank you," she told him.

"For what?" he asked, still perplexed.

"Y-You've given me a family – a _real_ family . . . I have a house, a partner, a child, and your son . . . You made me see it was possible to have that kind of life . . . that kind of love. You've made me happier than I ever thought I could be," Brennan revealed.

Booth felt tears welling up in his eyes, hearing those words from her mouth.

"I love you so much, Bones. You know that, right?" he told her.

"Yes. And I love you too, Booth," she said, and soon became extremely tired.

The paramedics finally arrived a few minutes later and took all three of them to the hospital.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Booth?" Brennan asked, sleepily, from her hospital bed.

"Yeah, Bones?" Booth answered.

"What do think of the name Christine?" she suggested, looking over at their still sleeping child.

"I think it's a beautiful name," he smiled knowing how much her mother meant to her. "Christine Elizabeth."

"Your grandmother's name," Brennan smiled. "It's perfect. Christine Elizabeth Booth."

"Booth? You don't wanna hyphenate it or leave it as Brennan?" Booth questioned, surprised.

"I've decided some things should remain traditional. Anthropologically speaking, American children are given their father's surname. I think we should do the same. Besides, it will eliminate confusion if we are ever to legalize our commitment to each other," she explained.

"So you _are_ thinking about proposing?" he grinned, boyishly.

"Perhaps you have convinced me that it isn't as ridiculous as I originally believed," Brennan admitted.

"Ha! I knew it!" he smirked, gleefully.

"I didn't say that I would, Booth," she corrected him.

"You will. _Trust me_ – someday soon, you will," he maintained.

Brennan shook her head and laughed.

"I fail to see how anyone could put so much emphasis on a piece of paper . . . but I know it's important to you. Therefore, it is important to me. So yes, someday, I will ask you," she conceded. "You should know that I have no intentions of dragging you along. Even though I still question the necessities and desirability of a legal marriage ritual and need time before I decide to be a part of one, I do wish to spend as long as is physically possible with you."

"It's 'string along'. And thanks, Bones . . . Even if you never ask, I'd be okay with that too," he assured her, and he would. He knew neither one of them was going anywhere. Brennan wanted what he had to offer and that was truly enough for him. But a wedding and marriage would be icing on the cake.

Brennan smiled, coyly.

"I, uh, I have something for you," Booth said, taking a small box out of his pocket.

She saw what it was and immediately became uncomfortable.

"Now before you flip out, this is not an engagement ring," he assured her. "It's just my way of saying thank you for carrying and giving birth to our daughter and a promise that we will always be a family."

She opened the box and found a 14K white gold ring with a princess cut aquamarine center stone and diamonds surrounding it.

"It's beautiful, Booth. You really didn't have to do this," Brennan said, taken aback by his gesture.

"You deserve it, Bones," he told her, placing the ring on her right hand, beside her mother's ring. "You're gonna be a great mom."

"I hope I will. I . . . I've tried to prepare myself by reading books, and Angela and I have since practiced my skills at playing with toys with Michael. Perhaps by the time Christine has developed her basic motor skills, I will have improved," she said.

"You're gonna be great, Bones. You already are," Booth promised.

Brennan moved over and invited him to lie next to her on the bed. Booth gently slid in and felt her immediately cuddle up on his chest.

"Do you think we would be together, if it weren't for Christine?" she wondered, toying with their intertwined fingers.

Booth steadied their hands, surprised by her doubt.

"What? Of course we would, Bones," he insisted.

"But if we didn't have Christine to think about, we wouldn't have had a logical reason for moving in together," she pointed out.

"Love isn't a reason?" he countered.

"Love is an irrational chemical reaction, Booth. And while I've come to accept that I will always be irrational when it comes to you, it doesn't justify a logical decision for moving in with you . . . not on love alone," she maintained.

Booth groaned, she always did this . . .

"Bones, it's been a long day. Can't you just trust in fate for once and forget everything else?" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Booth. But I need to know," Brennan insisted. "I need to be reassured that the center of our relationship isn't based on creation of a child – as much as I love her and am grateful she is in our lives."

He sighed, regretful for once that they had refused to go to a few sessions with Sweets after they'd officially become a couple. This wasn't just her hormones on overload – she truly was insecure about their relationship.

"How about that not only do I love you, but you are the person I've always loved most. I can't imagine not coming home and finding you reading on the couch, or fixing your famous mac and cheese . . . spouting out useless science stuff, shooting a Nerf gun at me, or sleeping beside you at night. I can't imagine not coming home _with_ you after a long day in the field together, or after going to Parker's soccer game on a Saturday. We argue about everything, but I don't care. I can't live without you in my life, Bones – you know I'd die for you. You're my best friend . . . you're my partner at work and in love. And I need you with me in whatever I do – _we_ do. Isn't that reason enough?" he asked.

"It's more than enough . . . I-I'm sorry, Booth. There are times when I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been pregnant with your progeny . . . if I hadn't lost the rest of my imperviousness on the night that Vincent died. I knew you loved me, and I knew you wanted us to try . . . however I was unsure of what we would become. I . . . am not good at long-term relationships. When you suggested we move in together, I was afraid of what it meant . . . afraid of trusting in the dream of a life together and then losing that dream," she confessed.

"You didn't want to be left alone again," he interpreted.

Brennan nodded.

"Bones, that will _never_ happen – no matter what. You and me – this is it. If I go anywhere, it'll always be with you. And it would've been true whether or not Christine came into our lives," he assured her then paused. "I went through hell that night I asked you to be with me. It wasn't your fault – deep down I knew you weren't ready, but it still hurt. I wasn't the same for a long time. I made a lot of mistakes and have so many regrets, but none of them was ever loving you. All you needed was time . . . I was too impatient and impulsive to give it to you. But after you did have time to feel the same, you waited for me when I didn't. You unselfishly made friends with the woman I was with. You gave me the time and space I needed. You helped me heal after I didn't think there was any point in loving someone again. I'll never forget that. You loved me, not knowing whether I'd ever be able to feel the same about you again."

"You did the same for me, Booth. You remained my partner and friend despite your feelings for me. You could have assigned me another partner or transferred, but you didn't. You stayed even though I had broken your metaphorical heart," she reminded him. "It was my fault – I loved you, but I didn't want to hurt you even more. I didn't know how to love you the way you needed to be loved. I wasn't ready to gamble – not when you were the one I could lose."

"But here we are – we made it through, and I think we're stronger for it," he observed.

"Yes, I agree," she said and caressed his jawline. "I'm glad we're here, Booth, and that we do have our child."

"Me, too, Bones," he smiled and earnestly kissed her lips before Christine woke up and cried.


End file.
